There Must Be Real Gods See, The

Why Wait For Death To Mow? Why Wait For Death To Sow Us In The Ground?

O Happy, Happy Each Man Whom Predestined Fate Leads To The Holy Rite Of Hill And Mountain Worship.

No Poetic Phantasy But A Biological Reality, A Fact: I Am An Entity Like Bird, Insect, Plant Or Sea-plant Cell; I Live; I Am Alive.

I Will Be Free, No Lover's Kiss To Bind Me To Earth, No Bliss Of Love To Counteract Actual Bliss.

It Is No Madness To Say You Will Fall, You Great Cities.